Very Crazy Things
by onlyonceinforever
Summary: What happens when my mind snaps and I feel like writing a new fanfic. Enough said. :ON HIATUS:
1. IntroductionPrologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the nonsense I babble. **

**Just a little psycho idea I had today during study hall...**

**Very Crazy Things**

There comes a point in every fanfic author's life when something just snaps. This aforementioned "snap" can be brought on by a number of things- stress, pressure from studying for midterm exams every spare minute of the freaking day and night, a prior lack of adequate sanity, sleep deprivation, and so on and so forth. When this occurs, all the characters from the author's fanfics would do well to run and hide. This rather strange occurrence means that these characters are at high risk of being forced into doing things that the author, when in their right mind (well, as right minded as fanfic authors ever are), would never even consider.

Now, before this fic actually begins, I would like to vouch for the fact that I, as the author, have the total right to snap, as within the past two weeks, I, as the author, have suffered from every dingle one of the aforementioned problems. Ergo, it is with completely justified reasoning that this story is being produced.

So, without further ado, feel free to proceed to the next chapter. Among later messed up plot-shots (yes, I did just make that up), you'll see, among other things that I haven't exactly thought up yet...

Oliver as a schoolteacher...

Draco as a punk rock drummer...

And...

Harry as a schizophrenic bisexual!

Read on, my precious...BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! ... Ahem.

**Yup, this is what happens when my mind snaps. This was just the intro, so you don't think I write things like this all the time. Which I could. If I wanted to. **


	2. When The Bad Go Cool

**Disclaimer: It's on the first chapter. Go back and check if you don't believe me.**

**Oh. My. God. I just checked my stats, and I'm on the author alert list of someone who I don't know personally! Excuse me while I go pass out and my other half performs the necessary medical procedures. **

**faints**

**Ok, I need a backboard, gurney and neck brace over here!**

**CBC, lites, chem 7, paddles!**

**All right, clear!**

**shocks**

**heart beats**

**Ok, we got her back! Now let's keep 'er on a monitor to run some more tests!**

**Why yes, Dr. Barnett, I would love to get a cup of coffee with you...**

**fade to black**

**Ok, ER moment over. Sorry about that. Getting onto the story now...**

**Right, and I did that thing where I made up a character to fit my plot line better. Therefore, Draco now has an older sister named Alexandra. **

Once upon a happy time, Draco Malfoy was introduced to the wonderful world of punk rock. It had been an accident, really, as no one least of all Draco expected to walk down a hallway in Malfoy Manor and hear the opening strains of Green Day's St. Jimmy leaking our from a room there. Draco's curiosity of the new sound was piqued and traced it to its origin - his older sister Alexandra's room. Draco nudged the ajar door and it swung inwards, revealing Alex doing the strangest thing - head banging.

Now, to all of you reading this who have ever heard Green Day's St. Jimmy, it's not really a head banging song. For that you would need something more along the lines of Metallica's St. Anger, but for the purposes of this fic, we're going with St. Jimmy. This can easily be explained, as the content of the aforementioned song is certainly not anything one would expect to hear coming from the speakers of a Malfoy's stereo. Of course, it is questionable as to if the Malfoy manor was equipped with such technology, but that's another matter entirely.

Draco peered in the room cautiously from the doorway. Alex wasn't exactly what one would call a traditional Slytherin, but she was a Slytherin none the less, which is why, Draco supposed, their parents hadn't yet disowned her. The walls were covered in rock posters and concert flyers and the majority of a vast collection of CDs and cases were scattered somewhat aimlessly around the bed and floor. Surround sound speakers were mounted high in the corners and Draco could see the air displacement as the bass boomed in time to the beat. He was in shock - why had he never known about this before? He had lived in the same house as Alex his entire life and never once heard any noise of the sort emitting from the room. Draco came to the explanation that it was sound proofed, as the only reason he was able to hear the music in the first place was because the door had been left partially open. After all, all the soundproofing in the world didn't do a thing if the door wasn't fully closed.

Alex seemed to sense Draco's uninvited presence, whether it was by the fact that the acoustics of the room changed once the door had been opened or the detail that he was simply standing there, jaw nearly scraping the CD covered floor. After singing along to a particularly controversial lyric (I'm the patron saint of the denial/With an angel face and a taste for suicidal/cigarettes and ramen and a little bag of dope/I am the son of a bitch and Edgar Allan Poe) she turned the volume down via remote and stared at him expectantly.

"I...uh...ya see... the thing is..." Draco stuttered, at a loss for words for probably the first time in his life. "What was that"

"What was what? The music" Draco nodded, unsure of what to say. "Why? You never heard Green Day before" Draco shook his head. "Wow. That's pretty sad. I mean, I've been listening to 'em since... a long time. I can't believe you've never heard them." Alex thought for a moment, then came to a realization. "Oh, that's right. It's soundproofed. Of course you wouldn't have heard it. Especially if Mother and Father didn't want you to." Draco was beginning to emerge form his comatose state of shock.

"But how did you..."

"Get into this stuff? Long story short, I have a couple of friends back at school who tortured some Muggles a while back and found some of this stuff in their junk." Alex had transferred from Hogwarts to Durmstrang due to a little... incident in her fourth year. Draco was constantly jealous of the fact, as Durmstrang was where all serious students of the Dark Arts hoped to go. It was there and only there that Muggle torturing didn't result in automatic expulsion.

"And Mother and Father don't mind you having all this stuff" Draco gestured around the room. "In here"

"Well, you know them. Once they figured out there was no way to stop me, they just accepted it and put in the soundproofing. So, you liking what you hear" Draco nodded, provoking a slightly deranged smile from his older sister. "Good, good. Hey, come with me. There's something I think you'll get off on." He gave her a questioning glance and followed her out of the room and down the hallway. They stopped outside the last door on the left.

"What's in here" Draco asked, unable to recall a time when he had been to this particular room. Alex smiled.

"You'll see." She pulled a key out of one of her many pockets, inserted it into the lock and pushed the door open. As far as security goes, it was pretty lax, seeing as how the more secret rooms in Malfoy Manor had devices only two people in the world knew how to access. Draco sucked in his breath, something that when he would later replay the event in his mind he would edit out.

There, in that room, was the last thing Draco would have ever suspected. A gorgeous five piece silver and black drumset sat in the center, surrounded by amps, mics, and more cables than seemed really safe or reasonable. Alex snickered softly at the look on her younger brother's face and stepped over a bunch of snake-like wires to a control panel. With the screech of the amps warming up, her fingers played across a variety of keys. The result was a resounding beat, full of a unbelievable number of elements and sounds. Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was captivated from measure one and he wasn't sure why.

"Is this - Did you" Alex grinned in a Cheshire Cat type manner and sat down on the throne of the kit, pulling a pair of drumsticks from a nearby holder. She motioned to Draco to close the door and told him to watch and learn once he did so. In a flurry of wood and flesh, the electronic recording gave way to pure talent as Alex lit up the set. Draco stood in shock. This was all so new to him. When had she learned to play like that. And how...

The playing stopped after a few minutes and Alex took a swig of water from the bottle she had brought along with her.

"So" She said, taking the utmost amusement in the look on his face. "What'd ya think" It was a few more moments before Draco had recovered from the shock enough to regain control of his vocal cords.

"Wow... That was... that was..."

"Freakishly awesome? Yeah, I know. Come join me." It took Draco a second to realize that there was another kit, a pretty shade of red, sitting alongside the other. He followed Alex's order and sat, automatically adjusting the throne and hi-hat to be more comfortable. He found another pair of sticks and tentatively hit each drum with them.

"Good. Now, do what I do." She played a slow lick, once around the toms, punctuated at the end with a tremendously loud cymbal crash. Draco sat thoughtfully for a moment, then mimicked her actions flawlessly. "Yes! This is good, this is very, very good. Now, do this." She played another lick, longer this time, and a bit faster. Draco copied it perfectly. Alex cheered. "Rock on! Now, listen to this and try to copy it." With a wave of her wand, a beat sounded from the speakers, which were more numerous than what was found in her room. Without having to play the beat twice, Draco played it back. Alex sat on the very edge of her seat, trying not to burst with excitement. "So, what'd ya think"

"I think...I think THAT THIS IS THE COOLEST THING EVER" Draco exclaimed in a very un-Draco like manner. Alex grinned and pumped her arms in the air.

"Yes! This is awesome! And another unwitting soul gets dragged into the wonderful world of punk rock drumming! Sweet" Once she had calmed down, Alex said. "So. You ready to try some more" Draco nodded enthusiastically and the two spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the night making music by banging on things. (A/N: Which is something not all people know how to properly appreciate coughmymothercough)

It would be that day Draco would remember many years from now when he and his band won a very prestigious contest - The Battle of The Bands. At the time, his parents had hardly noticed his new obsession, them being so busy doing evil, and all, but they would learn, especially once he began dressing the way Alex did. The traditional black and green was exchanged for black and silver, spikes and studs all around. His silver-blond hair was be cut and spiked, then the spikes dyed a particularly punk shade of purple. (Think Freddy from School of Rock) Of course, he was only permitted to wear his clothing of choice on vacation, when there was no school or other type of social gathering, but that was fine with him.

As Draco gazed out into the audience, he caught a glimpse of Alex, fully punked out. He caught her gaze and smiled and waved, thinking of how without her help and guidance he never would have found the way to his passion. Sure, he still loved torturing those bloody annoying Mudbloods, but this was what he lived for.

**Wow. That took forever and a day to type. I'm not so sure if I like the end, and I'm thinking I might tweak it a bit later, so tell me if you think I should keep it or screw with it.**

**I'm sure I could ramble on for the next few hours about nothing in particular such as the color of the sky on a summer day, but I won't because I have more important things to do. Like what? you ask? Oh, well, I'd be more than happy to tell you - I GOT THE COMPLETE FIRST SEASON OF CHARMED ON DVD YESTERDAY! YIPEE! And I think I need to go watch that. Well, either that or go spend lots and lots of my mommy's money on lacrosse gear. **

**And yes, the entire point of the prior paragraph was bragging. Just thought I'd be so kind as to let you know that. xD**


	3. The Wonderful Life of Oliver Wood

**Disclaimer: Whatever. **

**Now, before this thing gets underway, I would just like to point out that I love Oliver and Draco and all the other characters I'm messing with to death, and, if there was ever a time when I was in my right mind, I sure as hell wouldn't be doing this to them. That's it. Read on...**

**The Wonderful Life of Oliver Wood**

Once upon a time, Oliver Wood decided to become a school teacher. Now, I know most of you, as I did, are wondering why someone sotalented at something such as Quidditch would give it up forever to teach little brats to read and write. This can be easily explained - One day, during a particularly violent match with Bulgaria, was hit in the head with a Bludger as a last-ditch resort by an opposing Beater to claim the championship title. He survived, thankfully and to the relief of millions of screaming fangirls, but woke up from a lengthy coma having no recollection of the life he once had. All Oliver knew was that he wanted to enrich the minds of those less fortunate than himself.

So, Oliver left the hospital and went to a Muggle school to learn what one needs to know to be a teacher. It was a long and arduous process, but he prevailed. It took a while before Oliver discovered which level of learning (preschool, elementary, middle, or high) he wanted to teach, but in the end, he fell in love with the elementary school kids.

And this is when the story takes place, once Oliver found his niche. At the current point, he is lounging in his very cushy spinny chair at his very nice desk at a very prestigious elementary school by the name of Horace Green. The students are all at lunch, and then off to recess, so Oliver has a bit of time to himself to gather his thoughts. Of course, this was probably not the best of ideas, seeing as how those thoughts had turned to violence the past few days, as the students became increasingly more and more rowdy as vacation drew closer.

Oliver was unaccustomed to having people not do what he said when he said it. Whenever he had been put in charge of a group of people before, the majority younger than himself, he seized command and led his army straight into the depths of battle. Yet, there were a few differences. First of all, these were young children, barely old enough to stand on their own two feet (as Oliver liked to tell himself to compensate for his incompetence), not Quidditch players yearning for the House Cup for the first time in a very long time. Second, well, let's face it, Oliver wasn't exactly known for being the kindest and gentlest person around. In fact, he was rather accustomed to yelling and ordering people around, which obviously did not bode well with the parents of the students he was supposed to be educating.

There was something about the way Oliver taught that simply annoyed the parents. Sure, the kids learned what they were supposed to, I mean, who cares if they come home crying? Oliver leaned back in his chair and thought, trying to determine how he could end the barrage of complaints. After a few minutes of hardcore thinking, he came to a conclusion - he would try something new. But what? That was most definitely more easily said than done. A couple more minutes of pondering and Oliver came up with the answer - he would try being more kind and gentle. It was brilliant, if he did say so himself (which he did). And the perfect opportunity came to test his new theory once the children had returned from lunch. Oliver jumped out of his seat and said cheerfully:

"Hello, class! Now that everyone is all nice and full, why don't we begin with the new lesson." The students all stared at Oliver as if he had grown another set of heads and a broomstick had just produced itself from his bottom. Oliver ignored the looks and continued, writing a complex math equation (2+3?) on the black board in the front of the room. "Now, who can tell me the answer" When no one raised their hand, Oliver decided to choose one to answer, but not anywhere near his normal way of yelling and degrading. "Shannon? How 'bout you"

Shannon was a cute little girl, with mousy brown hair and freckles. Normally, she was very quiet, a trait that Oliver liked very much. This still held true as she stared at him in shock, resembling a deer caught in the headlights, with her eyes wide and frightened looking.

"No? Ok then, next student. How about... Greg. Do you know the answer to the problem on the board" Greg was one of Oliver's least favorites of his class of eighteen, due to his obnoxious habit of speaking out of turn. However, the one time when Greg should have responded, he didn't and instead stared at Oliver as if one of his newly acquired heads had been painted with black and pink checkers. "No? Are you sure you don't know" Greg shook his head slowly, a bit worried about what Oliver would do next. Normally, in a situation such as this, Oliver would explode and rant on and on about how stupid they all were and how they were never going to make it in the "real world". However, this was the new Oliver and the new Oliver would never blow up at an innocent child.

"Well, that's all right. We'll go over it until everyone understands it, all right" A series of delayed nodding commenced as he turned to face the board. Oliver picked up a piece of chalk and rewrote the equation, larger, and with little circles to represent the amount.

"Now, if there are two cookies in this group and three cookies in this group, how many cookies will there be if they all are put in one group? Allan? How 'bout you"

"Uh, does it matter what kind of cookies they are" The class giggled and Oliver shook his head, smiling slightly. Allan was known for eating just about everything he could get his hands on and more. Cookies just so happened to be a personal favorite, and Oliver knew it. _Step one, _he thought to himself as Allan set to work trying to solve the problem _Know what the kids respond to. That way, they have more incentive to do well at something. Bribing probably works just as well._ _God, I should write a book._

"Do you have the answer yet, Allan" He asked kindly, still in a vastly different manner than what was the norm.

"Um... six" Oliver smiled and millions of screaming fangirls all over the world swooned and fainted.

"Close. The answer is five. Can anyone tell me why" A red headed girl by the name of Petunia raised her hand tentatively. "Petunia"

"Because there would have to be one more than there is to make six"

"Right. Now, are you asking me that or telling me"

"Um... telling you"

"Right. Next time, try it with a bit more confidence, all right" Petunia nodded, and the class still could not for the life of them figure out what was wrong with their teacher. The remainder of the day passed in a similar manner, with Oliver adopting his new philosophy that if you didn't pressure or frighten the students they would perform better. Moments before the bell rang, as the class was packing their stuff to go home, a tall, smart-alecky boy came up to Oliver's desk, where he was grading papers.

"Um, Mr. Wood? Can I ask you something" Oliver looked up from a particularly riveting worksheet on vowel pronunciation.

"Why of course, Steven. What can I do for you" The boy, Steven, averted his gaze to a spot of dirt on the tiled floor as to not meet the gaze that millions of screaming fangirls all around the world would kill to see.

"Well, ya see, some of the other guys and I were wondering..."

"Yes? What is it"

"Well, we wanted to know why you're not being the mean Mr. Wood we all know. I mean, it's just strange that you're being so nice all of a sudden. Sorta like you're trying to lure us into thinking you're really a nice guy or something." Oliver blinked at him for a few moments, trying desperately not to explode at this poor, innocent child.

"Excuse me" He voice was low, soft, tone dangerous. Steven wisely opted to keep his mouth closed as he began to step backwards slowly. Just as a loud stream of curses escaped Oliver's mouth (most of which is unprintable due to the rating of this fic), the bell rang and the students sprinted out of the room just as fast as their little legs would carry them. "THAT'S IT! I QUIT! I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE! I need my shrink..." And with that, the former teacher, Mr. Oliver Wood, stormed out of the school building, swearing that the next child that crossed his path would be in for a nasty surprise. In fact, this type of deranged muttering continued as he made his way down to his psychiatrist's office, where the verdict was that he was crazy.

The end.

**Heeheehee! I love Oliver so much and this was just really fun to write! I apologize to Meg for all the lack of dialogue and promise I'll try to tone it down next time. Ideas for future chapters are more than welcome!**


	4. The Oliver Series, Part II

**Disclaimer: Me, own Harry Potter? Psh! If I did I wouldn't be sitting here writing entertainment for you, now would I?**

**The Oliver Series, Part II**

As was explained in the previous chapter (which if you haven't read it I highly suggest you do. But then again, why would someone start reading on the fourth chapter of a fic without first reading the other three chapters? That's just not logical.) Oliver has been having a bit of trouble with his profession. The poor guy is a failure at being an elementary school teacher, and his shrink (me) is getting paid not nearly enough. And thus we embark on the next segment of our wonderfully twisted tale. Read on, if you dare...

Oliver strolled down the hallway of his new school. Here, he wasn't going to be a teacher (thank God), but instead a guidance counselor. Instead of enriching young minds with pointless drivel, he would be helping the youth of our generation to figure out what they would like to do with the rest of their lives. Well, that is, if he could remain semi-sane long enough to collect a couple of paychecks.

He waltzed into his cushy office, where the first victim of the day was already waiting. Oliver had never seen her before, which was probably just as well. None of the kids he helped ever had to come back. Why this was is a bit unclear, but there was no point in dwelling in the past when there was the future to aid.

Oliver sat down in his black spinny chair at his desk and smiled warmly at the student.

"So," He said. "What can I do for you this fine day?" The girl sniffled, a lone tear running down her cheek. Oliver ignored this, as his previous experiences with crying told him it was best to just wait it out. "Well?"

"My name," Sniffed the girl, on the verge of a breakdown. "Is-is-is..." Oliver waited expectantly, as his therapist taught him to, not pushing the girl into responding before she was ready.

"Yes?"

"Sandy McFarland."

"Well, Sandy, what seems to be the problem today?" The girl named Sandy sniffled again.

"Well, ya see, the thing is..." Her voice trailed off, leaving Oliver to either suffer from a terrible head trauma that would make him become psychic in the next few seconds or wait until she finished. He wisely chose the latter. Of course, this meant he was forced to sit around, twiddling his thumbs impatiently as he waited for the next words to exit Sandy's mouth. "I-I-Oh, it's just too terrible to say!" Tears began streaming down her face, which Oliver again ignored.

"Well, I'm sure it's not. I mean, look at me - I used to be a famous Quidditch player, best in the league, then I got whacked in the head by a Bludger and couldn't remember anything about what my life used to be like, then decided to become and elementary school teacher, which I sucked at, I'm underpaying my wonderful therapist who I think I might be sleeping with against my knowledge, and now I'm here, as a high school guidance counselor. I seriously doubt your life could be much worse than mine."

"Oh, but it is!" Sandy sobbed, blowing her nose into a tissue from Oliver's desk.

"Then why don't you tell me what the problem is and we can fix it together?" Oliver suggested, eager to finish the session so he could go get some breakfast from the school cafeteria. Sandy shook her head. Oliver's eye twitched. "Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. What do I have to do to get you to tell me what the problem is?"

"I don't sob knooooooooooooooow!" Oliver continued to ignore the weeping as he thought long and hard about what he could possibly do to remedy this situation. After a few incredibly long moments of thinking, he came to a solution.

"I got it! If you don't tell me what the problem is right this instant I'm going to put on your permanent record that you are a compulsive liar who comes to guidance to waste the time of perfectly sane people just so you can cut class!" The tears stopped immediately, as Sandy pondered what he had just said. When it hit her that he was willing to lie to get her out of his office as soon as possible, her eyes widened.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh yes I would. Just try me." Sandy, having no desire whatsoever to do anything of the sort, determined that it would be in her best interests to simply tell the nice psychotic man what the problem was and scurry along back to class.

"Well, ya see, Mr. Wood, sir, the thing is..." Oliver leaned forward, one hand reaching for the key to the filing cabinet filled with student transcripts.

"Yes?"

"I-I... I got an A- on a project that I worked ever so hard on and it's the lowest grade I've ever gotten on anything!" Oliver started at her in shock.

"I'm sorry, I think I may have heard you incorrectly. Did you say the reason you're so upset is because you got an A- on a project?" Sandy nodded, tears building up again. Oliver closed his eyes, trying to find his happy place as his wonderful therapist had told him to when he felt the desire to rip someone's head into shreds. A moment later, he came back to reality. "Is that all you needed?" Sandy nodded tearfully. "OK then. Time to head back to class."

"OK. Thank you Mr. Wood." Oliver smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner, which actually resembled a shark smiling at a human bleeding profusely from the arm when there was no one around to save them. Sandy scampered out of the office just as fast as she could, a terrified look on her face. Oliver sighed and leaned back in his chair. What was this world coming to? He would have to go visit his wonderful therapist again for this one.

**Ok, here's what's going to be happening - since I'm having a heck of a lot of fun writing this whole "Oliver the guidance counselor" thing, but more than one installment doesn't really belong in this fic, I'm making a new one. So, for more of Oliver trying to aid the lives of poor, unsuspecting high school students, check out the fic The Oliver Series. Laterz!**


End file.
